


vincit omnia veritas

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternative Universe - FBI, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Horror, Hydra (Marvel), Latinx Tony Stark, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Has A Heart, x-files
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-10-03 11:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17283320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ten years ago, James Barnes lost his best friend while taking down Hydra. Now, as a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, he investigates the X-Files - cases dealing with unexplained phenomena.Two years ago, Tony Stark became the youngest special agent in the Bureau's history. He's assigned by Director Peggy Carter herself to debunk the X-Files, and he couldn't be more thrilled at the opportunity to knock the tinfoil hat off of Spooky Barnes' head.





	1. contaminis

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the medical stuff in here is either the very bare bones of stuff I learned in my Wilderness First Responder course or shit I made up, so please bear with me.
> 
> Translations for things Tony says in Spanish are at the bottom.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Bucky investigate the mysterious deaths of a group of people who graduated high school in the same year.

“You’ve only been with the Bureau for two years,” Director Carter begins, closing Tony’s file and looking up at him from her seat across the desk from him, “but your work at Quantico has already earned you quite the reputation. You’ve been given glowing reviews by every one of your students. I have to ask, Dr. Stark. You’re brilliant; you graduated summa cum laude at seventeen with doctoral degrees in medicine and engineering from Harvard and MIT, respectively. You're first in line to take over the most successful company in the world, but you've chosen not to. Why?”

“I was recruited out of school, ma’am. I wanted to serve my country, but I wasn’t cut out for the military. Guess I prefer silk sheets to sleeping in the dirt.”

“You certainly would have been serving your country as the CEO of Stark Industries, though. Your father is the leading contractor for the United States military.”

 _Yeah,_ Tony thinks. _My father is also the leading contractor of most known sexually-transmitted diseases._ Of course, he doesn't say that. Instead, he just shrugs.

“Howard sees it as an act of rebellion.” He doesn’t elaborate further. To be fair to Howard, it is an act of rebellion. He certainly doesn’t regret it, though. Director Carter doesn’t prod any further, though. She just reopens his file. While she’s scanning, Tony catches the watchful eye of a man whose name he doesn’t know. He’s been sitting in on the meeting silently with a cigarette dangling from his lips. Tony quirks an eyebrow at him challengingly, but he just stares back blankly.

“Well, you’ve certainly got an impressive resume. You’ve been teaching medical examination at Quantico?”

“Sure have,” he says. “I also teach a chemistry lab at Johns Hopkins once a week, but that’s more of a volunteer thing.” He smirks, self-satisfaction bleeding into his voice. What did she expect? At twenty years old, he’s the FBI’s youngest field agent. He graduated with two PhDs from Ivy League schools before most of his peers finished high school.

“Are you familiar with an agent named James Barnes?” she asks, clearly unimpressed by his bragging. Tony snorts, but her face remains neutral, so he schools his expression.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says hesitantly. The last thing he expected when he was brought into the Director’s office was to be asked about Spooky Barnes. He’s never even met the man.

“How so?” she prods. She shares a look with Janet Van Dyne, one of the assistant directors. The man whose name Tony doesn’t know takes a drag of his cigarette but remains silent.

“By reputation,” Tony says. “He was a sniper for the 107th and then a spy. His work with the 107th helped take down Hydra in 1980. He had a nickname in the Academy -” Tony chuckles. “Spooky Barnes.”

“Yes, well,” she says with that trademark Peggy Carter scowl, “Agent Barnes has become increasingly devoted to an unassigned project outside the Bureau mainstream. Are you familiar with the so-called ‘ _X-Files’_?” Tony resists the urge to laugh out loud.

“They deal with unexplained phenomena,” he says. _They’re complete bullshit_ , he doesn’t say.

“We’d like you to assist Agent Barnes with the X-Files project.” Tony feels instantly giddy - like a child on Christmas. “You’ll join him in the field and write reports on your observations from a scientific perspective. You’ll also be asked to include your opinions on the validity of the work.”

“You want me to debunk the X-Files,” Tony says, trying his best not to grin like a cat who got the cream. Whatever positive karmic acts he performed in a past life to deserve this opportunity must have been considerable. He doesn’t want to jinx it, so he doesn’t say what he’s thinking: _You need to bring in an MIT educated scientist to tell you that Hydra isn’t still operating and extraterrestrials haven’t invaded Earth?_

“We trust that you’ll draw sound and unbiased scientific conclusions,” Director Carter says. “You’ll want to contact Agent Barnes as soon as possible.”

“Is that all?”

“Thank you for your time, Dr. Stark.”

-

Tony finds himself practically skipping with joy through the dark basement of the J. Edgar Hoover building. Agent Barnes is a nutcase, and Tony does love proving idiots wrong with scientific facts. There are boxes everywhere, practically blocking the narrow hallway to a single door labeled 131. Tony knocks, loudly, twice.

“Sorry!” A rough voice comes through the door, and Tony twists the door to enter. “No one here except the FBI’s most unwanted!”

James Barnes is standing in front of a projector screen on the opposite side of the room, back turned to Tony. On the screen, there’s an image of a young woman’s dead body sprawled in the dirt among fallen leaves. Her light brown hair fans across her paper-white face, and her arm is twisted sickeningly under her body. James turns when the door shuts behind Tony.

“Tony Stark, as I live and breathe! I guess when ya go against the Director long enough, they start sendin’ celebrities to your office.”

“James Barnes?” Tony asks, even though he can’t think of a reason anyone else would be down here. He reaches out one hand. “I’ve been assigned to work with you. You know who I am.”

“Naturally,” James says, shaking Tony’s hand with a vise grip. Tony’s eyes are glued to Barnes’ prosthetic. It’s a black metal arm - the arm that’s not currently shaking his hand - and it’s a wonder of engineering. There aren’t many metal prosthetics. They’re inefficient and cumbersome, but this one looks sleek and lightweight. “What else would a pretty thing like you be doin’ down here? Who’d ya tick off to get stuck with this detail?”

Tony finds himself unexpectedly flustered by James’ charm. _He’s_ usually the one flirting with anything that moves. It’s a bit of a surprise, too, because James is at least six years older than Tony. He untangles their hands and takes a step back.. 

“Actually,” he says, “I’m looking forward to working with you.” _Looking forward to knocking that tinfoil hat off your head,_ he doesn’t say.

“Well, then, you may just be as crazy as everyone says. Say, Stark, do you believe in supersoldiers?” That’s a challenge if Tony’s ever heard one, and he frowns.

“No, I don’t. You know, Barnes, you and the 107th took out Hydra yourselves. The… whatever his name is… He’s a ghost story, and I don’t believe in ghosts. Or extraterrestrials, for that matter.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Barnes teases. “Why is that?”

“If the kind of energy required for extensive space travel was achievable, I would have already discovered it and I’d be making billions selling it to NASA.”

“Conventional wisdom, Stark, but you’re not a God. There are some things even you don’t know,” James says, and he clicks to the next slide. The woman’s body has been turned over to show a close-up of two small red bumps on her inner left elbow. “She was the fourth person in her graduating class to disappear under mysterious circumstances and turn up dead. Tell me, doll, what’s your scientific assessment of this?”

“Those are track marks, Barnes. Heroin use use isn’t an uncommon cause of death in young Americans.”

“Maybe so, but her toxicology screening was clean. Not to mention that everyone who knew her said that she wasn’t a drug user. In fact, her mother said that she used to be an alcoholic and was three years sober at the time of her death.”

“Did they run a full toxicology screening, or did they just test for heroin?”

“Sure did. This is all they found.” He flips to the next slide. “How’s your biology?” Tony looks at James incredulously before averting his attention to the new slide - a close up of cells in a petri dish.

“It’s pathogenic,” he says slowly, trying to keep his face neutral. “Jesus, I’ve never seen anything like this. It could be an emergent disease. Maybe the wounds are from an animal bite?”

“You said they were from a needle.”

“Yeah.” Tony sighs, eyes still glued to the picture. “You’re right. This just doesn’t make sense. How is it transmitted? I mean, it could have been injected, in which case we consider foul play.” James gives him a pointed look, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m sure you think extraterrestrials were involved.”  
  
“Actually, I’m more worried that this is Hydra gettin’ ready to wage a new kind of warfare. This - new disease never seen before? - has their stench all over it.”   
  
“Oh, yeah? And what is the stench of a dead Nazi organization, chiflado?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Of course you don’t. What was the cause of death?” Barnes opens the file on his desk and scans it.

“Increased intracranial pressure?”

“Yeah, but from what? Aneurysm? Stroke? Hypoxemia?”

“Is… Uh, what is this word?”

“Ischemia to infarction…” Tony says, grabbing the file from Barnes’ metal hand. “I’d suggest you learn to read, because _that_ is the cause of death. It was the same for all the victims? And they all had the same results on toxicology?”

“Actually, she was the only one with the bumps and the infection.”  
  
“But they all had the same cause of death?” 

“Yes.”  
  
“So it can’t be from the infection. What does it do, then?”

“You’ll have plenty of time to look at all the autopsy reports on the plane. We leave for Oregon at 8 AM sharp tomorrow. By the way, that ghost is called the Winter Soldier, and you should read the file. You might not think I’m so crazy.”

-

Barnes falls asleep immediately after they board the airplane. As soon as he realizes he has the whole row to himself, he lies down and passes out. Tony rolls his eyes, but he’s ultimately grateful for the chance to work in silence. He side-eyes the folder labeled _X-463, CLASSIFIED,_ but he doesn’t pick it up. The file contains all of Barnes’ reports on the Winter Soldier - his life’s work. Tony can’t help his curiosity, but he doesn’t have the time. He has other things to work on, so he picks up _X-1539_ instead.

Nothing in the file jumps out as a potential lead. It _is_ a strange case; he’ll admit that much. The virus is noted in the fourth victim’s autopsy report, but there’s nothing to support any theories on how it affected her body. The photos are disturbing - her left knee is swollen almost to bursting, and all of the tissue from the knee down is infarcted and completely black. The same is true from the shoulder down on her right arm. Tony can only assume that the extreme swelling caused ischemia and then infarction. It’s strange because all four victims have similar conditions, so the swelling couldn’t have been caused by the virus with which the fourth victim was infected. What caused it, then? It could be caused by trauma, in which case, foul play is the only explanation. Torture, perhaps, though it’s strange that every single one of their injuries would become ischemic from edema. Besides, that still doesn’t explain the cerebral edema that killed them. There’s no head trauma in any of the victims.

Something nags at the back of Tony’s head, telling him that everything he’s ever learned suggests that the virus was the cause of the fourth girl’s death, but that’s just conjecture at this point. It doesn’t explain the others. For all he knows, she was an asymptomatic carrier, and her death was unrelated.

His eyes catch on something at the bottom of the page that makes him frown. He’s uncapping his highlighter when the pilot’s voice rises over the PA.

“At this time, I’d like to ask all passengers to fasten your seatbelts as we begin our initial descent.” Before Tony has the chance to set the open file in the vacant middle seat, the plane begins to jump and rattle with turbulence. Barnes stirs and glances groggily at Tony just in time to see him take a white-knuckled grip to the armrests. He sits up with a mocking grin blooming on his face.

“Not too keen on flyin’, Stark?” he asks in that slow, irritating Brooklyn drawl. The turbulence has settled, and a flight attendant is walking down the aisle.

“Please fasten your seatbelts, gentlemen,” she says to them, and James mock-salutes her.

“I’m not the weird one here, Barnes,” Tony snaps, still tense as he buckles his seatbelt. “Humans were not made to be this high off the ground, unless you count _alien abduction.”_

Barnes laughs and shakes his head.

“Touché, Stark.”

-

“The first three reports were signed by a different medical examiner,” Tony says. He has his feet kicked up on the dash of the rental car, still scanning reports as they speed toward Bellefleur, Oregon.

“I know,” Barnes says. He keeps his eyes on the road with both hands - prosthetic and organic - firmly at ten and two on the steering wheel. Tony thinks it’s curious how tense he is about driving when he’s so flippant about everything else. He’s clearly afraid of it, but when Tony offered to drive, Barnes said no on the grounds that he isn’t old enough to be listed on the rental agreement. It was like he was expecting them to crash. “And is it just me, or did it look like there was concealer on the arms of the other victims in the pictures on their reports? I think someone’s tryin’ to pull a fugazi on us.”

“Okay, now _I_ don’t understand what _you’re_ saying to me. Can we just agree to speak English from now on? I promise to only speak Spanish when I’m insulting you.” Tony opens the file again as he speaks and takes another look at the first four bodies. It _does_ look like there’s concealer on the inner left arms of the ones who still have normal color there.

“Very funny, Weisenheimer.”  
  
“What did I _just_ say?” 

“What I’m tryin’ to say is that someone is hidin’ something, and I think you should take a second look at all of the bodies. I’ve already arranged to have them exhumed… You’re not squeamish about that sort of thing, are you?”

“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” Tony says. Sure, he’s worked on cadavers at Quantico, but something tells him that an educational cadaver is significantly prettier than a corpse pulled from the grave, especially with the injuries to these particular victims. Just as Barnes opens his mouth to speak, there’s a loud, sickening _crack_ as a raven hits the window of the car and rolls down the hood. Barnes averts his eyes from the road for the first time, and he and Tony make eye contact just before a whole flock of ravens falls from the sky without preamble. Tony’s body jerks forward as Barnes stomps on the brakes and they squeal to a stop.

Tony watches, confused, as Barnes puts the car in park and steps out. He steps out as well and almost vomits on the spot looking at the swollen bodies of at least twenty ravens. He turns away just in time to see Barnes opening the trunk of the car and pulling out a can of red spray paint.

“What are you doing?” Tony asks. “What just happened?” Barnes doesn’t answer, just shakes the can and paints a large X on the pavement. Tony is veritably shaken. “Barnes, what the fuck was that?”

Barnes shrugs and tosses the can back in the trunk.

“Don’t these birds look a hell of a lot like our victims?”

Tony looks again and crinkles his nose. Barnes grabs one of the birds by the talons and sets it in the trunk before slamming it shut.

“Jesus,” Tony says, barely above a whisper, and he gets back in the passenger seat as quickly as he can manage. Barnes follows a moment later.

“Seatbelt,” he says, like he’s not at all shaken. “Ya know, doll, a group of ravens is called a conspiracy.”  
  
Tony feels his stomach roll over at the crunching sound of the birds’ bodies as Barnes drives over them.

-

When they arrive at the cemetery, the coroner is already waiting for them. Tony shoots Barnes a sharp look as the step out of the car, because it’s _his_ fault they’re late. _Even_ I _don’t take showers that long,_ he thinks.

“You must be the agent I spoke with on the phone,” the coroner says, shaking Barnes’ hand. “I’m John Truitt, county coroner. This is my assistant, Andrew Bourne, and the cemetery caretaker, Lawrence Hayworth. We’re ready whenever you are.”

“Great,” Barnes says. “I’m Special Agent James Barnes, and this is my partner, Tony Stark.”

John gives Tony an appraising once over and an incredulous look.

“You an intern, son? You might wanna sit in the car for this one. Tony, is it? Dead body’s pretty gross in this state of decay.” John puts a condescending hand on Tony’s shoulder, which he immediately shakes off. Barnes looks at him, amused.

“You don’t pay much attention to the news, do ya, Boss?” Barnes asks.

“That’s _Doctor Stark_ to you,” Tony spits. “I’m a medical professional, so I think I can handle it. I’m _also_ the one who’s going to be looking at these bodies because _your_ medical examiner was too incompetent to do it right the first time.”

John puts his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, sorry, Doc. You just look awfully young, is all.”

“I am, and yet only one of us knows how to perform an autopsy, so I’d say age doesn’t matter, wouldn’t you?” Before anyone can say anything else, a door slams and a belligerent man is lumbering toward them. A woman gets out of the car on the passenger side and pleads with him to come back.

“Daddy, please,” she begs. “Let’s just go home.”

“Theresa, get back in the car and let me handle this,” he says. “I don’t know who you people think you are.”

“We’re with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. And you would be?” Barnes asks.

“I’m Jay Nemman, county medical examiner. You people think you can just come here and do whatever you please!”

“Someone _must_ have informed you we’d be coming,” Tony says, as reasonably as he can.

“No, actually, we’ve been away.”  
  
“Well that explains why the last autopsy was performed by someone else. Were you aware of the tissue sample taken from Karen Swenson’s body?” Barnes asks. Tony glares at him.   
  
“Are you insinuating that I missed something in the first three autopsies?”

“We’re not insinuating anything, Doctor,” Tony says, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Well I think you are! If you’re going to make accusations, you’d better have something to back them up!” Nemman snaps, swivelling to leave. “Let’s go, honey.”

“Let’s get started,” John says with a roll of his eyes. He leads Tony and Barnes to a headstone carved with the words _Ray Soames, beloved son, Dec. 21, 1968-Dec. 12, 1989. Rest In Peace._ “Poor kid. I knew ‘is mom, but he was a troubled guy. All those kids in the class of ‘86 came back from that graduation party a little different.”   
  
“What do you mean by different?” Tony asks. The grave has already been dug up, and John’s crew begins to lift the coffin out.

“Just a little messed up in the head. No one really knows what happened at the party, and none ‘a the kids ever said a thing. Laura Macon died a couple months later, and the rest of ‘em just went a little mad. Few of ‘em ended up in the Bellefleur looney bin. That’s where Ray was ‘til he died. Ran off into the woods and died from the swellin’.”

“Does anyone know what caused that?” Tony asks.

“I guess that’s why you’re here, Dr. Stark.”

Tony can see the webbing they’re using to pull up the coffin starting to get strained, and he’s about to say something when it snaps. The casket is dumped on the dirt beside the grave, and it falls open to reveal a body that could not possibly belong to a man who died more than six month ago.

“What the hell _is_ that?!” Barnes exclaims, scrunching up his nose at the foul smell of decay. Tony just stares, unable to figure out if this is some sick joke. The thing doesn’t even look _human_. “Box this up and get it somewhere we can get a better look at it. _No one_ sees this. You hear me? No one.”

-

“This is absolutely incredible, Stark,” Barnes says in awe, snapping another picture with the comically large camera the coroner provided.

“Subject is 182 centimeters in length,” Tony says, ignoring his enthusiastic partner. “Weighing 90 kilograms. Note that Ray Soames weighed 80 kilograms at the time of death. Increased weight is likely attributable to severe edema, which is strange considering the amount of time elapsed since time of death. Corpse is in advanced stages of decay, though it is well behind where it should be after six months. There are notable marks on the inner elbow. Barnes, if you could point that flash away from me, that would be just spectacular.”

“So what is it?” Barnes asks impatiently, setting the camera down on the examination table. He’s practically hovering over Tony while he performs his autopsy, and Tony resists the urge to tell him to fuck off.

“It’s Ray Soames,” he says slowly. “The subject is human, and there’s nothing to suggest that the grave was desecrated. Jesus fucking Christ, Barnes, you don’t have to stand so close. If you’d like me to leave so you can have some alone time with the corpse, just let me know.”

Barnes looks at him like he’s the craziest motherfucker he’s ever met for suggesting that the thing may be a primate instead of an extraterrestrial. Clearly, he expected Tony to tell him it was Not Of This Earth.

“You want me to believe that a human that’s been dead for six months would look like that?” he asks incredulously. “How do you explain that to his family, Stark? I want the works. Full genetic workup, x-rays, toxicology. Preferably before we go back to the motel.”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to look at Barnes like _he’s_ crazy. He drops the corpse’s arm from one gloved hand and gives his eccentric partner the best glare he can muster.

“Are you kidding me, Barnes?” Tony asks. “You don’t _really_ believe this is some sort of alien, do you? This is weird, but it’s definitely human.”

“Couldn’t the pathogen have caused this? You should do it for the sake of scientific discovery, if not for me.” Barnes looks at Tony earnestly, and Tony feels his resolve crumble. “Come on, Stark, I’m not unreasonable. I have the same doubts you do.” Tony laughs sharply at that.

“That’s rich, Barnes. Now get the hell out so I can start taking x-rays.”

-

When they get back to the room, it’s almost eleven PM. The first thing Tony does is tape the toxicology report to his lamp. He holds up the glass vial with the tissue sample he took from Ray Soames.

_Autopsy confirms possibly mutated human physiology. Still unsure of the nature or effects of what I’m calling the E1 virus. Chemical makeup is similar to mumps, but with notable differences in proteins._

He sighs and holds up the vial again. Maybe if he stares long enough he’ll just know the answer. There’s a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” he calls as he sets aside the laptop and stands up.

“Steven Spielberg,” Barnes yells out teasingly from the other side. Tony can’t repress his smile, opening the door to find Barnes standing outside in running clothes. “I’m going for a run. Wanna join me?”  
  
“Hard pass.” Tony snorts. “I already did my time at the academy.”

“Alright. Did you figure out what the issue is?”  
  
“Yeah, it’s your arm, and it’s such a masterpiece of engineering that I’m having a hard time focusing on my actual work,” Tony teases. “Oh, you meant the issue concerning the polio of our generation! Nope, and I’m not losing any sleep over it.”   
  
“Goodnight, Tony,” Barnes says. 

“Goodnight.”  
  
-

When Tony wakes up, he’s disoriented. He doesn’t wake to the sound of his alarm, so he sits up groggily and rubs his eyes, trying to decipher what it was that woke him. He hears three sharp knocks on his door and groans loudly. When he looks over at the clock on his bedside, he sees the red letters blinking. The power must have gone out at some point last night.

He rolls over and stands up, and he opens the door to find Barnes standing outside, holding a bagel in each hand. He offers Tony the one in his metal hand, and Tony takes it.  
  
“Morning,” Tony grumbles, and James laughs.

“I’m guessing your alarm didn’t go off either?”

“How did you wake up?”  
  
“Thunder woke me up around five. Come on; we’ve got some Bellefleur High alumni to visit at Sunnyside Recovery Hospital.”

“Oh, great.” Tony sighs. “God, I hate hospitals. Give me twenty minutes. I’ll meet you outside.”

-

Sunnyside Recovery Hospital is on the opposite side of town on a beautiful two-acre campus. Tony and James are escorted to the main building by the head doctor, Dr. Hayley Miles.

“Lauren and Michael Burns were both admitted the day after their high school graduation. We thought they’d gotten in a car crash.”

“Why did you think that?”

“Well, neither of them were in any state to talk to us. Their friend called an ambulance and he had no idea what happened. Said it was spontaneous; they just started swelling up like balloons. By the time they got here, they had irreparable brain damage. They have a viral infection, but I’ve never seen anything like it. We’ve been managing the symptoms pretty well considering the complete lack of data. I have no time to research it beyond what’s necessary to treat them, but cold therapy seems to work when there’s a flare up.”

“What are the symptoms?” Barnes asks. “And whaddaya mean by cold therapy?”

“Wait,” Tony says. “I think she’s talking about the same virus our victims had. Structure is similar to mumps?”  
  
“Yes!” she exclaims. “You’ve seen this before?”

“Yes. I’ve been calling it the E1 virus, but I have no idea how it works. I’ve only seen it in dead patients.”

“The swelling remains postmortem?!”

“It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen! Lowering the core temperature actually helps? That’s kind of brilliant. It seems too obvious.”

“Hello?” Barnes says. “Layperson here. Could someone explain this to me?”

“I call it the Burns virus,” Dr. Miles says. “It causes severe swelling in all parts of the body, including the brain. By the time Lauren and Michael came to the E.R., cerebral edema had already caused irreparable damage to their brain tissue. Lauren lost all access to fine motor skills and balance. It was more advanced for Michael, and he lost the ability to speak or walk.”

“Would you mind if we talked to them?” Tony asks.

“Well, they aren’t particularly lucid, but be my guest. I’ll take you to their room.”

She leads them inside and down a long hall, then opens the door at the very end. A young boy—no older than Tony—is lying in a hospital bed. He’s catatonic as the nurse readjusts an IV in his hand. The girl—Lauren—is sitting in a wheelchair staring sadly at the TV. Tony frowns, and his face twists in discomfort. Barnes doesn’t even hesitate, though. He sits in the chair beside Lauren and smiles warmly at her.

“Hi,” he says softly. “You must be Lauren. I’m James, but my friends call me Bucky.” Tony takes another step into the room, and Dr. Miles turns to leave.

“Amy, come with me,” she says to the nurse. “Let’s give them some time to talk. The call button is right here above Michael’s bed if you need anything.” She closes the door behind her, and Tony stands there awkwardly.

“Can I ask you some questions, Lauren?” Barnes asks. She nods. “Can you tell me what happened at your graduation party?” She frowns, and Tony sees that her eyes are becoming shiny with tears. He turns away, facing the wall.

“It burns,” she whimpers, touching her forearm where there’s the slightest bit of swelling. Barnes takes her hand in his own and squeezes comfortably.

“Take your time,” he says, and Tony hears her sniffle.

“They took us,” she says. “They put the needles in us. I don’t like needles.”  
  
“I don’t like needles either. Do you know who it was?” She shrugs. “That’s okay. Did you see a symbol of some sort on any of their clothes?”

She draws something in the air with her finger.

“Big swoop,” she says.

“Stark, what is she doing?” Tony turns around just as she draws in the air again.

“It looks like a swoop to me,” he says. “Like Nike.”

“Or like Stark Industries,” Barnes says, accusatory.

“What would Stark Industries be doing at some graduation party in Bellefleur, Oregon?”

“Sounds like illegal human experimentation to me.”

“She’s not lucid, Barnes. The doctor said it herself.”

Barnes sighs because Tony is right. They’re probably not going to get any verifiable information here. Still, he turns back to Lauren. She’s got her thumbs in her ears like she’s blocking out noise, and she’s staring off into space.

“Thanks for talking to me, Lauren.”

-

Tony is bone-tired, going over lab results in bed that night when the phone on his nightstand rings. He sighs and sets the report he’s reading aside. It’s not like he sleeps much at home, but that’s his choice—his very unhealthy choice, but still his choice. It’s a different story when he’s in the field and he often can’t get to sleep even if he wants to.

“Hello?” He’s expecting to hear Barnes ranting on the other end of the line, but instead, he hears the panicked voice of Dr. Hayley Miles.

“Is this Dr. Stark?” she asks. “I tried calling your partner, but he didn’t answer.”

“Yes, this is Agent Stark. What’s going on?”

“There was an accident at the hospital.”

“We’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Try to remain calm, Doctor.”

Tony hangs up and gets out of bed, shoving his feet into his shoes and doing his best to flatten the wrinkles in his button-down. It’s still warm when he steps outside, and the cicadas are practically shrieking. He bangs on Barnes’ door so long he worries he might get slapped with a noise complaint before he answers.

“Sorry, sorry,” Barnes says as he opens the door. Tony, on the other hand, doesn’t say _anything_. He’s too busy gaping in a rather humiliating fashion, because Barnes is fresh out of the shower with a thin motel towel hanging exceptionally low on his hips. He, quite frankly, has the most gorgeous body Tony has seen in all twenty years of his life. He looks away from Barnes’ washboard abs just to look not-so-subtly down at his own body.

 _Maybe I should start working out_ is his first coherent thought, followed immediately by: _shame we have to go to work right now._ When Tony looks back up, Barnes has his eyebrows raised with a smug little smile on his lips. Tony clears his throat.

“You’re on call, Barnes. Get dressed,” he says, though that’s the last thing he wants right now. “There was an accident at the hospital.”

“10-4, Boss,” Barnes says, and it sounds like he’s suppressing a laugh. As soon as he closes the door again, Tony is making wild, angry gestures at the air.

 _Way to make yourself look like un puto boludo, Stark,_ he thinks. He only barely composes himself by the time Barnes comes back with his shirt halfway open. He buttons up as they walk to the car.

The drive to the hospital is short but truly painful. Clearly, Barnes is enjoying this a great deal, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to let Tony off the hook anytime in the near future. It’s a relief when they finally pull over behind a row of emergency vehicles on the road to the hospital.

“What the fuck happened?” Barnes asks, and Tony is wondering the same thing. Every police officer in town must be here, but there’s only one victim as far as he can see. His heart drops when he sees an overturned wheelchair and a fan of fire-red hair at the center of the emergency vehicles. Barnes must see it at the same time because his face falls. “Lauren…”

Tony gets out of the car and waits, but it’s several long moments before Barnes follows. By the time he does, Dr. Miles is approaching them.

“What happened?” Tony asks. Dr. Miles sniffles and looks up at him with misty eyes.

“It was my fault,” she says. “I had to do my rounds, and I forgot to call their nurse back when I left. She must have gone out the emergency exit. God, I’m gonna lose my license, and what am I supposed to tell her family?”

“It’s okay, Doctor,” Barnes says, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Accidents happen.”

“Do you mind if we take a look at the scene?” Tony asks, and she nods. As they start to walk, an ambulance turns around and tears off with it’s sirens blaring, followed quickly by a fire truck and two police cruisers. Tony and Barnes share a look and jog up to the nearest police officer.

“What’s going on?” Barnes asks, and the officer looks away from the EMT he’s talking to in time to see Barnes flash his badge.

“There was a fire at Ponderosa Lodge,” he says, then turns back to his conversation.

“Shit!” Tony hisses. “My research! We have to go.”

“Okay, what are the odds?” Barnes asks once they’re safely in the car. “The only person who gave us _any_ information about that graduation party gets killed, and as soon as we leave to investigate, there’s a fire at our motel.” 

“You know what, Barnes? I’m really not interested in your conspiracy theories right now. I’m more concerned about the fact that all my research from the past two days might be gone.”

“You don’t think it’s a _little_ weird?” 

“No, actually, I really don’t. We both agreed that what Lauren Burns told us wasn’t reliable, so she wasn’t exactly a valuable informant.”

“What about the fire?!”

“It’s one of the driest years in half a century, Barnes. Fire danger has never been higher. It’s a massive inconvenience, but it’s not all that surprising.”

“I still think something weird is going on.”  
  
“Of course you do, chiflado.” 

-

When they get back to the motel, they’re told that the firefighters couldn’t salvage anything. Now  _that,_ Tony finds weird. Unless the emergency response time was truly abysmal, they should have been able to put out the fire well before everything was destroyed.

“Do you think it could be arson?” Tony asks. If an accelerant was used, that would explain the speed of burning.

“I’m a paramedic, sir, not a firefighter.”

Tony sighs and turns to storm back to where Barnes is standing at the edge of the parking lot.

“Whaddaya think, Anthony?” Barnes asks smugly.

“My name is Antonio, gringo,” Tony snaps. Then he sighs and admits, “It is weird. It shouldn’t have burned that fast.”

“Excuse me?” Tony and Barnes whip around at the same time, and they’re faced by a young woman with black hair that Tony recognizes as the coroner’s daughter. She’s come, seemingly, out of nowhere.

“Agents?” she asks timidly. “I’m Theresa Nemman. I have some things I’d like to tell you.” She looks around anxiously. “We need to go somewhere safe.”

-

They go to Dot’s, a locally-owned diner in downtown Bellefleur. The diner is so brightly-lit that Tony feels as though he’s blinding himself when they walk in. He’s not sure what Theresa meant by ‘a safe place’, but she was adamant that they not talk in the parking lot. Barnes, of course, ate the whole thing up. Tony was skeptical, but he hopes she can tell them something they’re missing.

Theresa and Tony order coffee—hers black, his with cream and two sugars—and Barnes orders a slice of apple pie. For someone so sure that the whole world is conspiring against him, he certainly behaves as though he has all the time in the world to sit in this diner in central Oregon.

“What did you want to tell us?” Tony asks, trying to maintain professionalism even as his partner chugs his entire glass of water in five seconds as though he’s been in the desert for months. Barnes sets his glass down so hard Tony is worried it might break, and then he’s focused on Theresa like she’s about to tell him who killed JFK.

“I was at that graduation party,” she says very quietly. “I saw what happened.”

“Why didn’t you talk to anyone about it?”

“Everyone else there died or went crazy, like Lauren and Michael, and the whole town was acting like it was some big secret. I honestly don’t know how you even caught wind of it. The whole thing must have slipped through the cracks when Dad left town,” she says. “Honestly, I was scared of what would happen if I told.”

“So why are you telling us now?”  
  
“Because I know who was driving the car that killed Lauren Burns. It was one of the men from the party—the ones that came and injected everyone.”

“What do you mean injected?” Barnes asks, but before she can answer, the bell above the door rings and Jay Nemman is sauntering over to their table like he owns the place. He’s followed closely by two men and a woman in suits. The woman flashes a badge.

“Dr. Stark, Agent Barnes,” she says. “I’m Marilyn Hayes with the Center for Disease Control. This case is officially outside of your jurisdiction. You’re free to leave.”

“What?!” Tony asks. “I’d like to see an order from your boss.” She produces a piece of paper and hands it to him, but before he’s even done reading it, she takes it back.

“Now, if you don’t mind, we’re going to take Miss Nemman back to the station to ask her some questions,” she says. “Have a safe flight back, gentlemen.”

-

“Okay, that was weird,” Tony says once they’re back in the rental car driving toward the airport. Barnes doesn’t answer, but the car squeals to a halt. When Tony looks out the window, he practically jumps out of his skin. There’s a deer in the road, but it looks horribly bloated and disfigured - limbs askew and bent at sickening angles. “¡Ave Maria!”

Barnes gets out of the car, and Tony follows, only to see the red X on the pavement that Barnes drew just two days ago. The deer is missing one leg, and Tony can see it lying on the side of the road when he turns his head to the right. Barnes must see it, too, because he makes an exaggerated gagging sound. He looks just a bit green when Tony looks at him.

“Wanna investigate?” Tony asks drily, his own stomach turning just a bit.

“Hell no,” Barnes says. “I got a pretty strong stomach, Stark, but I’ll tell ya that this may not be my kinda rabbit hole. Let’s get the hell outta here.”

-

It’s a fairly long drive back to the airport, and at one point, when Tony looks over, Barnes seems like he might be nodding off. Tony tries to think of small talk he could make to keep him awake, but instead, he blurts what he’s been thinking since he first heard about _Spooky Barnes_ back at the Academy.

“You know, I’ve never met anyone so eager to discredit their own accomplishments,” he says, and Barnes sighs minutely, but he doesn’t look away from the road. “You’re a hero for what you did with the 107th to take Hydra down. Most people would take that and run. I don’t get it, Barnes. You won. Why are you so hung up on these crazy conspiracy theories.”

“Because no one wins when there are Nazis out there, Stark. Not even a hero.”

Tony can’t think of a response, so he remains silent for the rest of the drive. He can’t help but think that even as spooky and misguided his ideas are, Barnes may not be as crazy as he thought.

-

_Case X-1539, which was taken over by the Center for Disease Control on June 28th, 1990, was unusual. However, I do believe that, given more time, it could be easily explained by logical means. It is my professional opinion that the verbal testimony given by Lauren Burns is unreliable. Given the brief and incomplete nature of her testimony, Theresa Nemman’s statement has also been deemed unusable. As of June 29th, 1990, Case X-1593 is now closed._

_Signed:_

_Dr. Tony Stark_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish to English Translations
> 
> Chiflado = Crackpot  
> Un puto bulado = A fucking jerk  
> ¡Ave Maria! = Hail Mary! (basically like saying "Jesus Christ", but less rude)


	2. nemini confidite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Bucky investigate the murder of a scientist and the theft of the super-secret formula he was transporting.

Something strange is going on in the air as Abraham Erskine drives toward Eden, North Carolina. Static hums low in the air, like the test planes that used to fly over his childhood home in Hamburg, Germany during World War II. As if by force of habit, he leans forward to look up through the front window of his car. His eyes search the sky for those eerie, saucer-shaped aircrafts, but there’s nothing. He leans back against his seat with a shake of his head. ****  
** **

A motorcycle headlight is reflected in his rearview mirror, and as it gets closer, he moves over on the narrow road to let the driver pass. They don’t, though. Instead, they get closer and closer until he’s forced to pull over. _Asshole,_ he thinks, irritated. ****  
** **

Fear bubbles up, though, when the driver still doesn’t pass. Instead, they pull over behind him. The headlight is nearly blinding, and Abraham reaches into the glove compartment for his gun with shaking hands. There’s a knock on the driver-side window, and he startles and drops the gun. A shot fires through the passenger door. Abraham looks up, terrified, and gasps in awe. The man outside his car is massive with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. A black mask covers the lower half of his face, and Abraham thinks that he can’t be right. This man is too big to be— ****  
** **

“Oh my God,” he breathes. ****  
** **

It is him. He knows it is, even though that’s impossible. ****  
** **

He doesn’t have time to think anything before a first flies through the window and sends shards of glass everywhere.

- ****  
** **

“No, Rhodey, you have no idea!” Tony says. He thinks he may be yelling, but he can’t be blamed. It’s loud between the crowd in the park and the fireworks above, and he’s had a few drinks. As he struggles to finish his sentence through drunken giggles, he tries to do a count in his head of the exact number of drinks he’s consumed. ****  
** **

“I have no idea of what, Tones?” Rhodey and Carol are both staring at him in varying states of mock rapture, and then they both burst into hysterical laughter at the confused focus on his face. ****  
** **

“He… Who was I talking about again?” Tony trails off, brow knit, and then his eyes light up. “Right! Spooky Barnes! He’s fuckin’ weird, guys.” ****  
** **

“Sounds like a real tool,” Carol slurs, maybe even more drunk than Tony is, and they both laugh and laugh and laugh. Tony leans against her side, and they both topple over like dominoes on the picnic blanket. ****  
** **

“Come on,” Rhodey says, smiling down at his fallen friends, “he can’t be that bad. And he’s a hero, so he can be as weird as he wants. He’s earned it. Besides, it’s only been a week, give it some time.” ****  
** **

“Okay, bootlicker,” Tony teases, and Carol smacks his shoulder. ****  
** **

“Feds can’t call other people bootlickers,” she says. She pauses then snorts, a grin spreading across her face. “But you are a bootlicker, Jim.” ****  
** **

Any rebuttal Rhodey could have made was lost in the explosion of another firework, and then Maria was running toward them with a six pack of PBR hidden poorly beneath her yellow hoodie. She glanced around with mischievous eyes before bending to sneak the six pack into their cooler and slip a beer out of the plastic webbing for herself. ****  
** **

“Babe,” she says to Carol, “how fast do you think I can chug this? I bet I can do it before that cop turns around.” She pointed to a police officer standing about twenty feet from them with his back turned. ****  
** **

Carol opens her mouth to agree to the bet—neither of them is ever opposed to getting themselves or each other arrested for the sake of a bet—but she’s interrupted by a voice with which Tony is, regrettably, familiar with. ****  
** **

“Feds approaching!” Barnes calls. Maria rushes to stuff her unopened beer under her hoodie and Carol tosses her empty can into the distance, sitting up straight. Tony sits up and prepares to act sober and polite towards a work partner he doesn’t like very much. ****  
** **

“Barnes,” he says, and then he scans over and becomes slightly more interested in the interaction. _Damn,_ he thinks as he looks at Barnes’ friend. _He’s gorgeous._ “Who’s your friend?” ****  
** **

“This is Sam,” Barnes says, and Sam reaches out to shake hands. Tony breaks himself from his dazed state and tries to think of something smart to say, but his brain isn’t working that well. ****  
** **

“You know who I am,” he says instead, and Sam laughs, so he feels sufficiently satisfied with himself. People don’t call him a playboy for nothing. “These are my friends, Rhodey, Carol, and Maria.” ****  
** **

“Pleasure to meet ya. Me ‘n Sam were headin’ to Scully’s for a couple a drinks. I’d invite you to join, but there are children present,” Barnes teases, and Tony scowls while everyone else laughs. “I’ll see ya later, Stark.”  
  
“Your place or mine?” Tony asks, and Barnes snorts. ****  
** **

“I’ll see ya at _work,_ Stark. Rhodey, Carol, Maria nice to meet ya.”

“Likewise,” Rhodey says, reaching out to shake hands with Barnes and Sam. Tony swears as they walk away, and Maria and Carol don’t even try to hide the way they laugh at him. Rhodey at least makes an effort to show some empathy. _That’s why I love him the most,_ Tony thinks. ****  
** **

“Why the hell did I say that?!” he hisses. “Ave Maria, I sound like such an asshole. _Insufrible,_ goddammit.”  
  
“Maybe it’s time to cut you off,” Carol says, laughing uncontrollably now that Barnes and Sam are out of earshot. “You’re insulting yourself in Spanglish again.” ****  
** **

“No.” Tony shakes his head. “Let’s go back to my place and drink until I forget how fucking embarrassing that was.”

-

Tony wakes up feeling far more tired than he was when he went to sleep. He groans and rolls over, feeling blindly around his nightstand until he knocks his phone out of the cradle. It stops ringing, and he reels it in by the cord, frowning at the clock on his nightstand. Ten-thirty is far too early to wake up after a night of drinking. 

“Hullo,” Tony slurs, rubbing the sleep gunk from his eyes with the back of his hand. ****  
** **

“Top ‘a the mornin’, kiddo,” Barnes says on the other end of the line. Tony doesn’t like how perky Barnes’ voice sounds, and he groans. ****  
** **

“What do you want?” he asks shortly. He hopes Barnes can hear the contempt in his voice. ****  
** **

“Sorry to call on your day off, but we have a case, so get your ass in gear.” Barnes does sound sympathetic, but it’s not enough to make Tony feel better. “Personally, I think a good old-fashioned cheeseburger is the best hangover cure.” ****  
** **

Tony cracks a begrudging smile.

“You’re funny, Barnes, but I’m not hungover. I’m not even old enough to drink, remember? What’s the case?” He doesn’t say that he finds it sort of extremely endearing that Barnes has the same favorite hangover cure as him. That would just be stupid, and as he begins to remember bits and pieces of last night, he thinks that he already made a big enough fool of himself. ****  
** **

“You think I was born yesterday, Stark? Just give me your address and I’ll pick you up. You live near Dupont Circle, right?” ****  
** **

Tony gives him the address, even though he’s sure he’ll regret it later. Barnes hangs up, and he fights the urge to just roll over and go back to sleep. He thinks that choosing a career that requires him to be on call 24/7 was a mistake. ****  
** **

- ****  
** **

“So, something weird happened to me this morning,” Barnes says as they sit in the drive-through of a McDonalds near Tony’s apartment. Tony raises his eyebrows mockingly and immediately regrets it as his head begins to throb painfully. He shuts his eyes and shoves his sunglasses up on his nose. ****  
** **

“You know, I don’t believe in the law of attraction, but it might actually apply here.”

“Do you need ibuprofen?” Barnes asks. “I have some in the glove compartment.” ****  
** **

“No, thanks.” ****  
** **

Barnes thanks the drive-through employee as she hands him a bag of food. He drops a burger in Tony’s lap and starts driving again. ****  
** **

“Do you wanna know what happened?” he urges. ****  
** **

“Sure, I do,” Tony lies. Barnes bought him lunch, so it’s the least he can do. “Tell me.” ****  
** **

“I was running this morning, and an agent I had never met stopped me to give me this case. He told me not to trust anybody?” ****  
** **

“Is this the same case that you still haven’t told me anything about. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but you’re going to have to trust me with the details of our active case,” Tony teases. “And you know I have to ask, since we’re apparently taking case assignments from complete strangers now: was this or was this not approved by a supervisor?” ****  
** **

“So you don’t want to know anything else about this guy?” ****  
** **

“Sure, yeah, of course.” Tony waves a dismissing hand. “Could you just tell me that I’m not going to get written up for this? You know, just for my peace of mind?” ****  
** **

“A.D. Van Dyne signed off on it,” Barnes says. ****  
** **

“Great. So, if you’re not supposed to trust anybody, why are you telling me all of this?” ****  
** **

“I have to trust you to some extent, right?” Barnes shrugs. “You’re my partner.” ****  
** **

“You’re not very smart,” Tony accuses. “If somebody tells you not to trust anybody, that _mostly_ means the people you work with. You do know that, right?” ****  
** **

“Are you telling me not to trust you?” Barnes asks. ****  
** **

“Well… no, but… You know, that kind of blind trust is just usually reserved for friends,” Tony argues. ****  
** **

“We’re kind of friends, aren’t we?” ****  
** **

That makes Tony feel inexplicably warm, so he chooses not to deny that they’re kind of friends. ****  
** **

“I mean _close_ friends. For all you know, I could be exactly who he was warning you about.” ****  
** **

“Are you?” ****  
** **

“I don’t know!” Tony exclaims. “A lot of people had said to never trust a Stark.” ****  
** **

“He didn’t _say,_ ‘never trust a Stark.’” Barnes looks amused. “He _said_ , ‘trust no one.’” ****  
** **

“I’m someone. And maybe he meant coworkers in general! We work in a pretty dangerous industry, you know, —”

“Tony!” Barnes cuts him off, laughing, and Tony blushes bright red. “Quit bein' so neurotic and eat your damn cheeseburger before all that hangover-curing grease soaks into the paper. I trust you, okay? At least enough to tell you about an informant in our case. Besides, you’re smarter than me. I needed to know your thoughts. Do you trust me?”  
  
“No, because I don’t throw my trust around like candy in a parade,” Tony says, crossing his arms indignantly. Barnes is laughing at him, and he huffs and mumbles, “And yeah, I am smarter than you. Now, would you _please_ tell me about the case?” ****  
** **

“Vic is Abraham Erskine. Sixty years old. Mad scientist, far as I can tell from the file. He was killed on a work trip from B-more to Eden, North Carolina early-early Monday morning.” ****  
** **

“Wow, three days is a new record for me, I think,” Tony marvels. “Why did the local cops turn it over so quick?”

“Something super classified was stolen from the trunk of his car, and since it originated across state lines, it’s our jurisdiction.” ****  
** **

“What was stolen?” ****  
** **

“Unclear. I got the case this morning, about an hour before I called you, and I made some calls to Erskine’s coworkers and superiors, but no one would tell me what it was he was transporting. I talked to five different guys, and they were all givin’ me the runaround, bein’ super secretive. All I know is that Erskine was supposed to give a presentation to a DoD panel in Eden on Monday afternoon, but he never made it. His partner agreed to meet with us to talk, but he wouldn’t give me anything over the phone. The file is under your seat somewhere if you want to look at it.”  
  
“So we have nothing at all?” Tony asks, fishing for the file and scanning it’s contents quickly. “No dead-end evidence? No leads that didn’t pan out? Very little prior engagement by law-enforcement? Not to jinx it, but I thought all X-Files were cold cases. Why did Van Dyne approve us for a case this fresh?” ****  
** **

“Technically, it’s not an X-File. That’s where my informant comes in,” Barnes says. “Van Dyne was interested in what he had to say.” ****  
** **

“Which was…?” Tony asks. ****  
** **

“He has it on good authority that Erskine and his partner were working on a formula to create, and I quote, ‘a new breed of super-soldiers’.” ****  
** **

“Oh, Cristo.” Tony groans and shuts the file. “What kind of lies did you tell her to get this case approved? I know it must be something, because you are the _only_ person I know who would believe that _boludeces_.” ****  
** **

“I didn’t lie to her!” Barnes defends. ****  
** **

“Then what’s the catch?” ****  
** **

“Maybe she’s just a believer,” Barnes says. “You know, it’s not as crazy as you think! There’s real science behind super-soldiers.” ****  
** **

“Not, there’s not. At least not behind turning regular people into super-soldiers. There’s a whole lot of pseudo-science. At its core, the creation of super-soldiers is a total implausibility unless you get into eugenics and selective breeding over generations. It would require an impossible change in the body’s chemistry at a cellular level. Van Dyne is a scientist, and she’s too smart to believe that. So, what’s the catch, Barnes?” ****  
** **

“Fine. We’ve been approved to consult on the case. We have until tomorrow to take a look at it before it’s turned over to counter-terrorism.” Tony scowls, and Barnes does look apologetic, for what it’s worth. “But I do think it’s worth a look. It’s an interesting case. You might actually be surprised if you look at Erskine’s research.” ****  
** **

“If it’s not too classified.” Tony rolls his eyes and reclines his seat. “Wake me up when we get to a gas station. I need coffee.” ****  
** **

- ****  
** **

“Stark, wake up.” Barnes shakes Tony’s shoulder, and he wakes with a start. He looks around, disoriented, and realizes they’re parked outside of a police station. Barnes takes the key out of the ignition and shoves a piping hot cup of gas station coffee in Tony’s face. He takes it and smiles at Barnes in a way that he quickly realizes might be just a bit too moon-eyed. ****  
** **

“Thanks,” he says. ****  
** **

“No sweat. I thought you could use the sleep, so I stole your credit card from your pocket and bought us both coffee. Cream and two sugars.” Barnes holds up his own cup with a self-satisfied grin. “We’re running a little bit late, though, so shake a leg. Erskine’s partner is waiting inside.” ****  
** **

Tony steps out of the car and frowns at the rain drizzling from the sky like a leaky faucet. As soon as he and Barnes enter the station, they’re greeted by a perky young receptionist. ****  
** **

“Welcome,” she says. “What can I do for you fellas?” ****  
** **

“Afternoon, ma’am,” Barnes says, flashing his badge. “Supervisory Special Agents James Barnes and Tony Stark with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We have a meeting with Dr. Reed Richards. Could you direct us toward your briefing room?” ****  
** **

“Of course,” she says. “Follow me.” ****  
** **

As they walk behind her, Tony leans over close to Barnes’ ear. ****  
** **

“You know, I can introduce myself,” he mutters, “but if you want to do it, it’s ‘Dr. Tony Stark’. I have two PhDs.” ****  
** **

“Right,” Barnes says. “You do realize how ridiculous that is, right? If you think about it, I’m just minimizing the amount of time we spend answering questions about your age.” ****  
** **

“Here you go,” the receptionist chirps as she opens a door and gestures them through. Barnes thanks her, and the door shuts behind them with a click. Tiberius Stone stands from behind one of the tables, and Tony’s stomach churns. ****  
** **

“You must be Dr. Richards,” Barnes says. “I’m James Barnes, and this is—”  
  
“Tony Stark?!” Tiberius exclaims. “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s good to see you!” ****  
** **

Tony forces himself to unfreeze and plaster on a convincing fake grin. ****  
** **

“Ty! This is crazy!” Tiberius steps forward to hug him, and he tries not to flinch. Barnes quirks his head, and Tony hopes he can’t tell how uncomfortable this is for him. “Wow, it’s been forever. What are you doing here? Barnes, this is Tiberius Stone.” ****  
** **

“You two know each other?” Barnes asks. ****  
** **

“Yeah, we—” Tony starts, but Tiberius cuts him off. ****  
** **

“Tony was an undergrad at MIT when I was getting my Master’s. He was just sixteen at the time, but he was in all my 400-level TA courses.” He finally releases Tony from the hug and winks at him when he says, “We got along great. Are you interning with the Bureau now, Tony?” ****  
** **

It makes Tony feel dirty, not to mention furious, the way Tiberius looks at him. _He knows damn well I’m not an intern,_ he thinks bitterly. ****  
** **

“No,” Tony says, a bit more sharply than he intended to sound. “I’m a Supervisory Special Agent.” ****  
** **

“Huh,” Barnes says, narrowing his eyes. “Well, we were supposed to meet Dr. Richards. You know anything about that?”

“Right,” Tiberius says. “Dr. Richards was supposed to meet you, but I thought I might have more information about the dealings of my company than he would. Besides, I have some business with Hank Pym in Danville this evening, so it wasn’t too much of an overshoot. I’m glad I decided to come. Shall we sit, Agent Barnes? Tony, would you get me some coffee?” ****  
** **

Tony is seething, but he tries to take a deep breath. He can see Barnes scowling as he clenches and unclenches his metal fist. He’s about to just do what Tiberius asks so that they can get this over with, but Barnes speaks up.

“Actually,” he says with his voice full of thinly-veiled rage, “Dr. Stark is my supervisor. I can’t conduct interviews without him present.” ****  
** **

Tony feels his own eyes blow wide, and he looks at Barnes with a growing smile. His heart thrums at the fact that Barnes would tell such an embarrassing lie for his sake. Barnes smiles back at him, and Tony turns a smug look on Tiberius, who is leaning back against his seat with the look of a petulant child. Tony sits across from him.

“So, Mr. Stone,” Tony begins, “what can you tell us about the material Dr. Erskine was transporting at the time of the incident?”

“Unfortunately, that information is strictly secret, as is in the best interests of my company. There’s very little I can tell you unless I’m subpoenaed to testify in a court of law,” Tiberius says, and Tony thinks, _I fucking hate this man._ He knows that Tiberius knows that there will never be a trial for this case unless they find out what, exactly, Abraham Erskine was killed for. ****  
** **

“Do you even want us to find the killer?” Tony asks, frustrated. ****  
** **

“Of course I do,” Tiberius says coolly. “And I trust that you will, if you just do your jobs. However, I cannot compromise the overall prosperity of my company in order to help you." ****  
** **

“Anything at all you can tell us would be helpful,” Barnes says through gritted teeth. “Even the smallest detail could lead us to the killer.” ****  
** **

“I’m sorry,” Tiberius says, but he doesn’t sound apologetic in the slightest. “There’s nothing more I can tell you.” ****  
** **

Tiberius stands and offers his hand for Barnes to shake. Barnes looks like he wants to rip that hand off, so Tony intercepts the shake. ****  
** **

“Thank you for your time, Tiberius,” he says. Tiberius flashes them both a shark’s grin and exits the room. It’s silent, with Barnes eyeing Tony analytically, until Tony knows for sure that Tiberius is out of earshot. ****  
** **

“God fucking dammit!” He drops his face into his folded arms and lets out a muffled scream. ****  
** **

“What an asshole,” Barnes growls. “I can’t believe he drove all the way down here to give us nothing. Does he even want to find whoever took his stuff?”

“No. Why would he need to? He gets the insurance payoff either way,” Tony says. “He just came down here to torment me.” ****  
** **

“I’m really sorry, Stark.” ****  
** **

Tony lifts his head and smiles weakly at Barnes.

“It’s okay,” he says. “Thank you for… you know. Rhodey and Carol used to do this thing, back when I was in school, where they would get between me and Ty and defend me, and it was sweet, but I just don’t want him to think I’m too weak to stand up for myself, you know? Every time they would kick his ass for me or tell him to fuck off, it was just leverage he could use to prove that I couldn’t stand on my own. That was really nice of you.” ****  
** **

“Anytime. I know you can hold your own,” Barnes says. “Now, what’s our next move, Kid Wonder?” ****  
** **

“First of all, never call me that again,” Tony says, and he stands from his seat. “Let’s make some calls to Stone’s competitors. I bet they know something.” ****  
** **

- ****  
** **

An hour later, Barnes marches into the interrogation room where Tony has made his makeshift office. Tony ends his call with Marcus Hammer and replaces the phone in its cradle, leaning over to write a few notes. ****  
** **

“Stark, you’re never gonna believe who I just had on the phone,” Barnes says. Tony takes one look at his face and rolls his eyes. ****  
** **

“Judging by that smug look on your face and the fact that we’ve spent the past hour interviewing Stone’s competitors, I’m gonna take a wild guess that you spoke to my father,” he says tightly. He frowns and closes his notebook. “Did he have anything useful to say.” ****  
** **

“Nope. Stark Industries had ‘no comment on the matter.’” Barnes snorts. “He acted like I was a journalist instead of a federal agent. Delightful old coot, by the way. He had a lot of _very_ colorful words for me.” ****  
** **

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” Tony’s cheeks turn red, and he looks away, ashamed. “He’s kind of a drunk. You didn’t tell him you were working with me, did you?” ****  
** **

“Didn’t think it would help, honestly.”  
  
“Maybe your judgement isn’t as bad as I thought it was.” Tony sighs. “Did you talk to Fujikawa yet?”

“Sure did. Nothing there, either. He does _not_ like you,” Barnes says. ****  
** **

“Yeah, I know,” Tony says. “But he likes Tiberius even less, so he would have said if he knew something.” ****  
** **

“Did you get anything from Hammer?”  
  
“Actually, yeah, maybe. Hammer said his son saw Stone talking to someone sketchy in a bar at some convention earlier this year. He said the guy was speaking Russian, and he had a neck tattoo of a skull and crossbones.” ****  
** **

“That’s not that weird. It just sounds like Hammer is a little biased against people with tattoos,” Barnes says. ****  
** **

“No, it’s definitely weird,” Tony argues. “A lot of black market arms dealers have that tattoo. It doesn’t seem like Hammer knew that, but I’ve seen it a lot over the years. It’s not super widely known outside of the weapons black market, so it could just be a coincidence; those guys like to hang out at the conventions and see what’s what. Still, it’s possible that Stone did know, and he might have been dealing under the table.” ****  
** **

“That doesn’t fully explain the murder or the theft, though.” ****  
** **

“Sure it does,” Tony says. “If he sold it to someone sketchy and made it look like a theft, he could get double the payout between the buyer and insurance.” ****  
** **

“Let’s get a warrant for his bank records,” Barnes suggests. ****  
** **

“Don’t get me wrong, Barnes. Tiberius Stone is un baboso, but he’s not that stupid. He wouldn’t have been paid through an account that could be linked back to him. We’ll have to be more creative than that.” ****  
** **

“We should call the insurance company and ask how much he filed for. Maybe if we know the value, we can track recent payments in that amount made to offshore accounts.” ****  
** **

“Can we do that from the motel after I shower?" ****  
** **

“You do smell,” Barnes teases.

- ****  
** **

The incessant banging is already driving Tony up a wall by the time he reaches the door and throws it open. Barnes is leaning against the door frame, and he crosses his arms when Tony opens the door. ****  
** **

“Took you long enough,” Barnes says. ****  
** **

“Yeah, well, I just got out of the shower, and I don’t make a habit of answering the door in a towel like _some_ people,” Tony argues indignantly. “What do you want.”  
  
“$653,000.” ****  
** **

“Well, that’s a lot of money.” Tony’s brow knits. “I didn’t think you’d ask for a loan so early on. Most people wait at least a month.” ****  
** **

“I’m not asking you for a cool half-mil, Stark, believe it or not.” Barnes laughs, and Tony frowns. “That’s how much Stone filed for.” ****  
** **

“I thought you were gonna wait for me.” ****  
** **

“You were taking too long.” ****  
** **

“Do you think that was really the value?” Tony asks. ****  
** **

“It seemed like a lot, so I called Dr. Richards again to confirm, but yeah. That’s really how much it was worth.”

“Damn,” Tony mutters. “That would make his overall payout over a million dollars. People have definitely killed for less than that.”

“Right?! And here’s the crazy part:” Barnes looked a bit wild around the eyes at the apparent breakthrough, “the insurance claim was filed at 8:30 on Monday morning.” ****  
** **

“That’s an hour before police found the body,” Tony says, voice flat. Barnes nods, and Tony bursts out laughing. He shakes his head and mutters, “Mierda sagrada. Eres tan tonto, Tiberius.” ****  
** **

“I don’t know what that means, but I’m guessing you’re not praising his intelligence.” ****  
** **

“No, gringo, I’m not. He said he had a meeting in Danville tonight, right?” Tony asks, and Barnes nods. “Well, luckily for us, I happen to know Hank Pym’s favorite restaurant in Danville. Wouldn’t it be so tragic if we made a scene at Stone’s important business meeting?” ****  
** **

Barnes grins. ****  
** **

“Now you’re speaking my language, Stark.” ****  
** **

- ****  
** **

When they arrive at the restaurant, Tony can already see Hank Pym sitting at a table in the corner. A few steps to the left and he can see Tiberius sitting across from him. He gives Barnes a thumbs up and pulls out his badge as he approaches the hostess stand.

"Do you have a reservation?" the hostess asks.

"No," Tony says and flashes his badge. "We're with the FBI. We have some business with one of your customers if you could let us through."

She nods and unhooks the barricade rope, waving them through with wide eyes. Tony leads as he and Barnes walk up behind Tiberius.

"Evening, gentlemen," Tony says smugly. Tiberius whips around and smiles up at him with that awful shark's grin while Hank glares at him from across the table. Hank may very well have coined the phrase  _'never trust a Stark'_ himself.

"Hello, Antonio," he says sourly.

"Dr. Pym; pleasure to see you again."

"Tony, Agent Barnes, what a pleasant surprise," Tiberius says. "What are you two doing here?"

"Oh, we just came for some dinner. I hear the lobster is divine," Barnes says drily. "But since you just happen to be here... Business calls." He pulls out his handcuffs and waves them in Tiberius' face.

"Tiberius Stone, you're under arrest for the murder of Abraham Erskine," Tony begins. Barnes hauls Tiberius from his seat and cuffs his hands behind his back. "You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you by the state. Do you understand your rights?"

"Yes," Tiberius hisses, and then he is silent as Barnes leads him out of the restaurant.

Tony must admit, it's satisfying to have all eyes watching as Tiberius is placed, handcuffed, in the back of Barnes' car.

-

"So," Tony says as soon as they get out of the parking lot and onto the road, "do you want to tell us where you were at two AM on Monday, July 2nd?"

He turns his body to look at Tiberius, who is seething in the backseat.

"You know, you could have just told me if the sex was that bad. You didn't have to go so extreme on the revenge," he goads.

"I would watch what you say," Tony hisses. "You're about to go to prison for a very, very long time."

"But then again, it really wasn't bad, was it? I recall you enjoying it  _very_ much." Tony turns away with a roll of his eyes, but Tiberius continues. "Do you still have the tapes?"

Tony feels himself turn bright red and hot all over, and he counts himself lucky that Barnes is so paranoid about driving. Even though Tony can see the unreadable emotion behind his eyes, Barnes never looks away from the road, so Tony can put himself under the illusion that he is hearing none of the humiliating conversation.

 _I can't let Ty win_. Tony lets the thought overpower his shame, and he turns a gain to look Tiberius dead in the eye.

"No, I don't," he says. "Do  _you_ still have the tapes, Tiberius? Because I would be  _thrilled_ to add child pornography and statutory rape to your list of charges."

Tiberius keeps his mouth shut after that. Barnes is grinning ahead at the road, and Tony can't help but light up with the pride of finally standing up for himself. It's silent, then, for almost fifteen minutes. They're well out of the city, driving down a dark, rural road when...

"Shit!" Barnes shouts, and the care comes to a screeching halt as he stomps on the brakes. Tony looks over at him with wide eyes and finds him breathing heavily and looking thoroughly shaken.

"Whoa, are you okay?" he asks. His brow knits together in an expression of concern. "You look like you saw a ghost."

"I thought I saw..." Barnes says softly, then he shuts his eyes and shakes his head. When he opens them again, the look has passed. "Never mind. I'm sorry."

Tony decides to let it go, but then as soon as they start driving again, a motorcycle headlight appears seemingly from nowhere in the rearview mirror. It gets closer and closer, and then the driver moves to pass on there left. Except, he doesn't pass. He just hovers, and then he sidles up towards the driver's window. Tony can't see his face, but it would be directly in Barnes line of vision if he just...

Barnes turns his head for a split second, and his expression crumbles. He looks as though he's been shot.

The motorcycle makes contact with the side of the car, and they swerve off of the road and collide with a tree.

Barnes' head snaps forward and slams against the steering wheel, releasing a scream from the horn into the silent summer air. Tony feels his body jerk and his ribs crack as he's caught by his seatbelt. He can't breathe or move when the driver of the motorcycle pulls Tiberius' unconscious body from the car and speeds away.

Tony can't see his face behind the mask he wears.

-

Tony is reading a book beside Barnes' hospital bed when he comes to.

"Hmm?" he grumbles, disoriented. Tony shuts his book and watches as Barnes cracks one eye, then both eyes, open. "Where 'm I?"

"How is it, Barnes, that a grown man in his late twenties has no emergency contact?"

"Sam's my 'mergency contact," Barnes slurs, and Tony smiles.

"I'm glad you're alert enough to think thoughts, but you should really double-check your med records, because no one is listed."

Barnes seems to come alive all at once, then, and he tries to jerk upright in a sudden panic. Immediately, he whimpers in pain and falls back again.

"Whoa! Easy there, tiger!" Tony says. "What's got you all worked up?"

"Steve," Barnes whispers.

"Right, you kept saying his name in your sleep. He was one of your old friends from the war, right? You must have been dreaming about him." Tony clears his throat uncomfortably. "I'm sorry. Do you want some water?"

"He was there," Barnes stresses, panic rising in his voice. "I saw him in the trees, then on that motorcycle. Oh, God, did he...? Did the police...?"

"Barnes, that wasn't Steve," Tony says sadly. "I'm sorry. The police don't know who it was, but Steve has been dead for a long time. You hit your head really hard when we crashed."

Barnes' eyes start to look shiny with tears, and he turns away from Tony as much as his position allows.

"It was him," he whispers, and Tony wants to help, but it's clear that Barnes is in denial.

"I'm really sorry, James," he says softly. "I really am. I'll give you some privacy, just... The case is being turned over to counter-terrorism, so don't worry about it. Just try and get some rest, and I'll get a nurse to bring you some painkillers, okay?"

He stands and waits for a long time, but Barnes doesn't say anything, so he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish to English translations:
> 
> Ave Maria = Hail Mary (It's mostly used like "Jesus Christ" to my understanding, but not quite as rude)  
> Insufrible = Insufferable  
> Cristo = Christ  
> Boludeces = Bullshit  
> Baboso = Moron  
> Mierda sagrada. Eres tan tonto = Holy shit. You are so stupid.


End file.
